Two Years Before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana

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them on ox-carts to the landing-place, whence they were taken onboard by the crew with boats. This being all done with, we gaveone day to bending our sails, and at night every sail, from thecourses to the skysails, was bent, and every studding-sail readyfor setting.

Before our sailing an unsuccessful attempt was made by one of thecrew of the California to effect an exchange with one of ournumber. It was a lad, between fifteen and sixteen years of age,who went by the name of the ``reefer,'' having been a midshipmanin an East India Company's ship. His singular character and storyhad excited our interest ever since the ship came into the port.He was a delicate, slender little fellow, with a beautiful pearlycomplexion, regular features; forehead as white as marble, blackhair curling beautifully round it; tapering, delicate fingers;small feet, soft voice, gentle manners, and, in fact, every signof having been well born and bred. At the same time there wassomething in his expression which showed a slight deficiency ofintellect. How great the deficiency was, or what it resulted from;whether he was born so; whether it was the result of disease oraccident; or whether, as some said, it was brought on by hisdistress of mind during the voyage,-- I cannot say. From hisaccount of himself, and from many circumstances which were knownin connection with his story, he must have been the son of a manof wealth. His mother was an Italian. He was probably a naturalson, for in scarcely any other way could the incidents of hisearly life be accounted for. He said that his parents did not livetogether, and he seemed to have been ill treated by his father.Though he had been delicately brought up, and indulged in everyway (and he had then with him trinkets which had been given him athome), yet his education had been sadly neglected; and when onlytwelve years old, he was sent as midshipman in the Company'sservice. His own story was, that he afterwards ran away from home,upon a difficulty which he had with his father, and went toLiverpool, whence he sailed in the ship Rialto, Captain Holmes,for Boston. Captain Holmes endeavored to get him a passage back,but, there being no vessel to sail for some time, the boy lefthim, and went to board at a common sailor's boarding-house in AnnStreet, where he supported himself for a few weeks by selling someof his valuables. At length, according to his own account, beingdesirous of returning home, he went to a shipping-office, wherethe shipping articles of the California were open. Upon askingwhere the ship was going, he was told by the shipping-master thatshe was bound to California. Not knowing where that was, he toldhim that he wanted to go to Europe, and asked if California was inEurope. The shipping-master answered him in a way which the boydid not understand, and advised him to ship. The boy signed thearticles, received his advance, laid out a little of it inclothes, and spent the rest, and was ready to go on board, when,upon the morning of sailing, he heard that the ship was bound uponthe Northwest Coast, on a two or three years' voyage, and was notgoing to Europe. Frightened at this prospect, he slipped away whenthe crew were going aboard, wandered up into another part of thetown, and spent all the forenoon in straying about the Common, andthe neighboring streets. Having no money, and all his clothes andother things being in his chest on board, and being a stranger, hebecame tired and hungry, and ventured down toward the shipping, tosee if the vessel had sailed. He was just turning the corner of astreet, when the shipping-master, who had been in search of him,popped upon him, seized him, and carried him on board. He criedand struggled, and said he did not wish to go in the ship; but thetopsails were at the mast-head, the fasts just ready to be castoff, and everything in the hurry and confusion of departure, sothat he was hardly noticed; and the few who did inquire about thematter were told that it was merely a boy who had spent hisadvance and tried to run away. Had the owners of the vessel knownanything of the matter, they would doubtless have interfered; butthey either knew nothing of it, or heard, like the rest, that itwas only an unruly boy who was sick of his bargain. As soon as theboy found himself actually at sea, and upon a voyage of two orthree years in length, his spirits failed him; he refused to work,and became so miserable that Captain Arthur took him into thecabin, where he assisted the steward, and occasionally pulled andhauled about decks. He was in this capacity when we saw him; andthough it was much better for him than the life in a forecastle,and the hard work, watching, and exposure, which his delicateframe could not have borne, yet, to be joined with a black fellowin waiting upon a man whom he probably looked upon as but little,in point of education and manners, above one of his father'sservants, was almost too much for his spirit to bear. Had heentered upon this situation of his own free will, he could haveendured it; but to have been deceived, and, in addition to that,forced into it, was intolerable. He made every effort to go homein our ship, but his captain refused to part with him except inthe way of exchange, and that he could not effect. If this accountof the whole matter, which we had from the boy, and which wasconfirmed by the crew, be correct, I cannot understand why CaptainArthur should have refused to let him go, especially as he had thename, not only with that crew, but with all he had ever commanded,of an unusually kind-hearted man. The truth is, the unlimitedpower which merchant captains have upon long voyages on strangecoasts takes away the sense of responsibility, and too often, evenin men otherwise well disposed, gives growth to a disregard forthe rights and feelings of others. The lad was sent on shore tojoin the gang at the hide-house, from whence, I was afterwardsrejoiced to hear, he effected his escape, and went down to Callaoin a small Spanish schooner; and from Callao he probably returnedto England.

Soon after the arrival of the California, I spoke to CaptainArthur about Hope, the Kanaka; and as he had known him on thevoyage before, and liked him, he immediately went to see him, gavehim proper medicines, and, under such care, he began rapidly torecover. The Saturday night before our sailing I spent an hour inthe oven, and took leave of my Kanaka friends; and, really, thiswas the only thing connected with leaving California which was inany way unpleasant. I felt an interest and affection for many ofthese simple, true-hearted men, such as I never felt before butfor a near relation. Hope shook me by the hand; said he shouldsoon be well again, and ready to work for me when I came upon thecoast, next voyage, as officer of the ship; and told me not toforget, when I became captain, how to be kind to the sick. Old``Mr. Bingham'' and ``King Mannini'' went down to the boat withme, shook me heartily by the hand, wished us a good voyage, andwent back to the oven, chanting one of their deep, monotonous,improvised songs, the burden of which I gathered to be about usand our voyage.

Sunday, May 8th, 1836. This promised to be our last day inCalifornia. Our forty thousand hides and thirty thousand horns,besides several barrels of otter and beaver skins, were all stowedbelow, and the hatches calked down.[3] All our spare spars weretaken on board and lashed, our water-casks secured, and our livestock, consisting of four bullocks, a dozen sheep, a dozen or morepigs, and three or four dozens of poultry, were all stowed away intheir different quarters; the bullocks in the long-boat, the sheepin a pen on the fore hatch, the pigs in a sty under the bows ofthe long-boat, and the poultry in their proper coop, and thejolly-boat was full of hay for the sheep and bullocks. Ourunusually large cargo, together with the stores for a five months'voyage, brought the ship channels down into the water. In additionto this, she had been steeved so thoroughly, and was so bound bythe compression of her cargo, forced into her by machinery sopowerful, that she was like a man in a strait-jacket, and would bebut a dull sailer until she had worked herself loose.

The California had finished discharging her cargo, and was to getunder way at the same time with us. Having washed down decks andgot breakfast, the two vessels lay side by side, in completereadiness for sea, our ensigns hanging from the peaks, and ourtall spars reflected from the glassy surface of the river, which,since sunrise, had been unbroken by a ripple. At length a fewwhiffs came across the water, and, by eleven o'clock the regularnorthwest wind set steadily in. There was no need of calling allhands, for we had all been hanging about the forecastle the wholeforenoon, and were ready for a start upon the first sign of abreeze. Often we turned our eyes aft upon the captain, who waswalking the deck, with every now and then a look to windward. Hemade a sign to the mate, who came forward, took his stationdeliberately between the knight-heads, cast a glance aloft, andcalled out ``All hands, lay aloft and loose the sails!'' We werehalf in the rigging before the order came, and never since we leftBoston were the gaskets off the yards, and the rigging overhauled,in a shorter time. ``All ready forward, sir!''-- ``All ready themain!''-- ``Cross-jack yards all ready, sir!''-- ``Lay down, allhands but one on each yard!'' The yard-arm and bunt gaskets werecast off; and each sail hung by the jigger, with one man standingby the tie to let it go. At the same moment that we sprang aloft,a dozen hands sprang into the rigging of the California, and in aninstant were all over her yards; and her sails, too, were ready tobe dropped at the word. In the mean time our bow gun had beenloaded and run out, and its discharge was to be the signal fordropping the sails. A cloud of smoke came out of our bows; theechoes of the gun rattled our farewell among the hills ofCalifornia, and the two ships were covered, from head to foot,with their white canvas. For a few minutes all was uproar andapparent confusion; men jumping about like monkeys in the rigging;ropes and blocks flying, orders given and answered amid theconfused noises of men singing out at the ropes. The topsails cameto the mast-heads with ``Cheerly, men!'' and, in a few minutes,every sail was set, for the wind was light. The head sails werebacked, the windlass came round ``slip-- slap'' to the cry of thesailors;-- ``Hove short, sir,'' said the mate;-- ``Up with him!''--``Aye, aye, sir.'' A few hearty and long heaves, and the anchorshowed its head. ``Hook cat!'' The fall was stretched along thedecks; all hands laid hold;-- ``Hurrah, for the last time,'' saidthe mate; and the anchor came to the cat-head to the tune of``Time for us to go,'' with a rollicking chorus. Everything wasdone quick, as though it was for the last time. The head yardswere filled away, and our ship began to move through the water onher homeward-bound course.

The California had got under way at the same moment, and we saileddown the narrow bay abreast, and were just off the mouth, and,gradually drawing ahead of her, were on the point of giving herthree parting cheers, when suddenly we found ourselves stoppedshort, and the California ranging fast ahead of us. A barstretches across the mouth of the harbor, with water enough tofloat common vessels, but, being low in the water, and having keptwell to leeward, as we were bound to the southward, we had stuckfast, while the California, being light, had floated over.

We kept all sail on, in the hope of forcing over, but, failing inthis, we hove aback, and lay waiting for the tide, which was onthe flood, to take us back into the channel. This was something ofa damper to us, and the captain looked not a little mortified andvexed. ``This is the same place where the Rosa got ashore, sir,''observed our red-headed second mate, most malapropos. Amalediction on the Rosa, and him too, was all the answer he got,and he slunk off to leeward. In a few minutes the force of thewind and the rising of the tide backed us into the stream, and wewere on our way to our old anchoring-place, the tide settingswiftly up, and the ship barely manageable in the light breeze. Wecame-to in our old berth opposite the hide-house, whose inmateswere not a little surprised to see us return. We felt as though wewere tied to California; and some of the crew swore that theynever should get clear of the bloody[4] coast.

In about half an hour, which was near high water, the order wasgiven to man the windlass, and again the anchor was catted; butthere was no song, and not a word was said about the last time.The California had come back on finding that we had returned, andwas hove-to, waiting for us, off the point. This time we passedthe bar safely, and were soon up with the California, who filledaway, and kept us company. She seemed desirous of a trial ofspeed, and our captain accepted the challenge, although we wereloaded down to the bolts of our chain-plates, as deep as asand-barge, and bound so taut with our cargo that we were no morefit for a race than a man in fetters; while our antagonist was inher best trim. Being clear of the point, the breeze became stiff,and the royal-masts bent under our sails, but we would not takethem in until we saw three boys spring aloft into the rigging ofthe California; when they were all furled at once, but with ordersto our boys to stay aloft at the top-gallant mast-heads and loosethem again at the word. It was my duty to furl the fore royal;and, while standing by to loose it again, I had a fine view of thescene. From where I stood, the two vessels seemed nothing butspars and sails, while their narrow decks, far below, slantingover by the force of the wind aloft, appeared hardly capable ofsupporting the great fabrics raised upon them. The California wasto windward of us, and had every advantage; yet, while the breezewas stiff, we held our own. As soon as it began to slacken, sheranged a little ahead, and the order was given to loose theroyals. In an instant the gaskets were off and the bunt dropped.``Sheet home the fore royal!-- Weather sheet's home!''-- ``Leesheet's home!''-- ``Hoist away, sir!'' is bawled from aloft.``Overhaul your clew-lines!'' shouts the mate. ``Aye, aye, sir!all clear!''-- ``Taut leech! belay! Well the lee brace; haul tautto windward,''-- and the royals are set. These brought us upagain; but, the wind continuing light, the California set hers,and it was soon evident that she was walking away from us. Ourcaptain then hailed, and said that he should keep off to hiscourse; adding, ``She isn't the Alert now. If I had her in yourtrim she would have been out of sight by this time.'' This wasgood-naturedly answered from the California, and she braced sharpup, and stood close upon the wind up the coast; while we squaredaway our yards, and stood before the wind to the south-southwest.The California's crew manned her weather rigging, waved their hatsin the air, and gave us three hearty cheers, which we answered asheartily, and the customary single cheer came back to us from overthe water. She stood on her way, doomed to eighteen months' or twoyears' hard service upon that hated coast, while we were makingour way to our home, to which every hour and every mile wasbringing us nearer.

As soon as we parted company with the California, all hands weresent aloft to set the studding-sails. Booms were rigged out, tacksand halyards rove, sail after sail packed upon her, until everyavailable inch of canvas was spread, that we might not lose abreath of the fair wind. We could now see how much she was crampedand deadened by her cargo; for with a good breeze on her quarter,and every stitch of canvas spread, we could not get more than sixknots out of her. She had no more life in her than if she werewater-logged. The log was hove several times; but she was doingher best. We had hardly patience with her, but the older sailorssaid, ``Stand by! you'll see her work herself loose in a week ortwo, and then she'll walk up to Cape Horn like a race-horse.''

When all sail had been set, and the decks cleared up, theCalifornia was a speck in the horizon, and the coast lay like alow cloud along the northeast. At sunset they were both out ofsight, and we were once more upon the ocean, where sky and watermeet.

[1] This word, when used to signify a pulley or purchase formed byblocks and a rope, is always by seamen pronounced ta-kl.

[2] When our crew were paid off in Boston, the owners answered theorders of Stimson and me, but refused to deduct the amount from thepay-roll, saying that the exchanges were made under compulsion.

[3] We had also a small quantity of gold dust, which Mexicans orIndians had brought down to us from the interior. It was notuncommon for our ships to bring a little, as I have since learnedfrom the owners. I heard rumors of gold discoveries, but theyattracted little or no attention, and were not followed up.

[4] This is a common expletive among sailors, and suits any purpose.

CHAPTER XXX

At eight o'clock all hands were called aft, and the watches setfor the voyage. Some changes were made; but I was glad to findmyself still in the larboard watch. Our crew was somewhatdiminished; for a man and a boy had gone in the Pilgrim; anotherwas second mate of the Ayacucho; and a fourth, Harry Bennett, theoldest man of the crew, had broken down under the hard work andconstant exposure on the coast, and, having had a stroke of thepalsy, was left behind at the hide-house, under the charge ofCaptain Arthur. The poor fellow wished very much to come home inthe ship; and he ought to have been brought home in her. But alive dog is better than a dead lion, and a sick sailor belongs tonobody's mess; so he was sent ashore with the rest of the lumber,which was only in the way. He had come on board, with his chest,in the morning, and tried to make himself useful about decks; buthis shuffling feet and weak arms led him into trouble, and somewords were said to him by the mate. He had the spirit of a man,and had become a little tender, perhaps weakened in mind, andsaid, ``Mr. Brown, I always did my duty aboard until I was sick.If you don't want me, say so, and I'll go ashore.'' ``Bring up hischest,'' said Mr. Brown, and poor Bennett went down into a boatand was taken ashore, with tears in his eyes. He loved the shipand the crew, and wished to get home, but could not bear to betreated as a soger or loafer on board. This was the onlyhard-hearted thing I ever knew Mr. Brown to do.

By these diminutions, we were short-handed for a voyage round CapeHorn in the dead of winter. Beside Stimson and myself, there wereonly five in the forecastle; who, together with four boys in thesteerage, the sailmaker, carpenter, cook, and steward, composedthe crew. In addition to this, we were only four days out, whenthe sailmaker, who was the oldest and best seaman on board, wastaken with the palsy, and was useless for the rest of the voyage.The constant wading in the water, in all weathers, to take offhides, together with the other labors, is too much for men even inmiddle life, and for any who have not good constitutions. (Besidethese two men of ours, the second officer of the California andthe carpenter of the Pilgrim, as we afterwards learned, broke downunder the work, and the latter died at Santa Barbara. The youngman, too, Henry Mellus, who came out with us from Boston in thePilgrim, had to be taken from his berth before the mast and madeclerk, on account of a fit of rheumatism which attacked him soonafter he came upon the coast.) By the loss of the sailmaker, ourwatch was reduced to five, of whom two were boys, who neversteered but in fine weather, so that the other two and myself hadto stand at the wheel four hours apiece out of every twenty-four;and the other watch had only four helmsmen. ``Never mind,-- we'rehomeward bound!'' was the answer to everything; and we should nothave minded this, were it not for the thought that we should beoff Cape Horn in the very dead of winter. It was now the firstpart of May; and two months would bring us off the Cape in July,which is the worst month in the year there; when the sun rises atnine and sets at three, giving eighteen hours night, and there issnow and rain, gales and high seas, in abundance.

The prospect of meeting this in a ship half manned, and loaded sodeep that every heavy sea must wash her fore and aft, was by nomeans pleasant. The Alert, in her passage out, doubled the Cape inthe month of February, which is midsummer; and we came round inthe Pilgrim in the latter part of October, which we thought wasbad enough. There was only one of our crew who had been off therein the winter, and that was in a whale-ship, much lighter andhigher than our ship; yet he said they had man-killing weather fortwenty days without intermission, and their decks were swepttwice, and they were all glad enough to see the last of it. TheBrandywine frigate, also, in her recent passage round, had sixtydays off the Cape, and lost several boats by the heavy seas. Allthis was for our comfort; yet pass it we must; and all handsagreed to make the best of it.

During our watches below we overhauled our clothes, and made andmended everything for bad weather. Each of us had made for himselfa suit of oil-cloth or tarpaulin, and these we got out, and gavethorough coatings of oil or tar, and hung upon the stays to dry.Our stout boots, too, we covered over with a thick mixture ofmelted grease and tar. Thus we took advantage of the warm sun andfine weather of the Pacific to prepare for its other face. In theforenoon watches below, our forecastle looked like the workshop ofwhat a sailor is,-- a Jack-at-all-trades. Thick stockings anddrawers were darned and patched; mittens dragged from the bottomof the chest and mended; comforters made for the neck and ears;old flannel shirts cut up to line monkey-jackets; southwesterswere lined with flannel, and a pot of paint smuggled forward togive them a coat on the outside; and everything turned to hand; sothat, although two years had left us but a scanty wardrobe, yetthe economy and invention which necessity teaches a sailor soonput each of us in pretty good trim for bad weather, before we hadseen the last of the fine. Even the cobbler's art was not out ofplace. Several old shoes were very decently repaired, and withwaxed ends, an awl, and the top of an old boot, I made me quite arespectable sheath for my knife.

There was one difficulty, however, which nothing that we could dowould remedy; and that was the leaking of the forecastle, whichmade it very uncomfortable in bad weather, and rendered half ofthe berths tenantless. The tightest ships, in a long voyage, fromthe constant strain which is upon the bowsprit, will leak more orless round the heel of the bowsprit and the bitts, which come downinto the forecastle; but, in addition to this, we had anunaccountable leak on the starboard bow, near the cat-head, whichdrove us from the forward berths on that side, and, indeed, whenshe was on the starboard tack, from all the forward berths. One ofthe after berths, too, leaked in very bad weather; so that in aship which was in other respects unusually tight, and brought hercargo to Boston perfectly dry, we had, after every effort made toprevent it, in the way of calking and leading, a forecastle withonly three dry berths for seven of us. However, as there is neverbut one watch below at a time, by ``turning in and out,'' we didpretty well. And there being in our watch but three of us wholived forward, we generally had a dry berth apiece in badweather.[1]

All this, however, was but anticipation. We were still in fineweather in the North Pacific, running down the northeast trades,which we took on the second day after leaving San Diego.

Sunday, May 15th, one week out, we were in latitude 14 56' N.,lon. 116 14' W., having gone, by reckoning, over thirteen hundredmiles in seven days. In fact, ever since leaving San Diego, we hadhad a fair wind, and as much as we wanted of it. For seven days ourlower and topmast studding-sails were set all the time,and our royals and top-gallant studding-sails whenever she couldstagger under them. Indeed, the captain had shown, from the momentwe got to sea, that he was to have no boy's play, but that the shipwas to carry all she could, and that he was going to make up by``cracking on'' to her what she wanted in lightness. In this way wefrequently made three degrees of latitude, besides something inlongitude, in the course of twenty-four hours. Our days we spent inthe usual ship's work. The rigging which had become slack frombeing long in port was to be set up; breast backstays got up;studding-sail booms rigged upon the main yard; and royalstudding-sails got ready for the light trades; ring-tail set; andnew rigging fitted, and sails made ready for Cape Horn. For, witha ship's gear, as well as a sailor's wardrobe, fine weather mustbe improved to get ready for the bad to come. Our forenoon watchbelow, as I have said, was given to our own work, and our nightwatches were spent in the usual manner,-- a trick at the wheel,a lookout on the forecastle, a nap on a coil of rigging under thelee of the rail; a yarn round the windlass-end; or, as wasgenerally my way, a solitary walk fore and aft, in the weatherwaist, between the windlass-end and the main tack. Every wave thatshe threw aside brought us nearer home, and every day'sobservation at noon showed a progress which, if it continued,would, in less than five months, take us into Boston Bay. This isthe pleasure of life at sea,-- fine weather, day after day,without interruption,-- fair wind, and a plenty of it,-- andhomeward bound. Every one was in good humor; things went right;and all was done with a will. At the dog watch, all hands came ondeck, and stood round the weather side of the forecastle, or satupon the windlass, and sung sea-songs and those ballads of piratesand highwaymen which sailors delight in. Home, too, and what weshould do when we got there, and when and how we should arrive,was no infrequent topic. Every night, after the kids and pots wereput away, and we had lighted our pipes and cigars at the galley,and gathered about the windlass, the first question was,--

``Well, Dana, what was the latitude to-day?''

``Why, fourteen, north; and she has been going seven knots eversince.''

``Well, this will bring us to the line in five days.''

``Yes, but these trades won't last twenty-four hours longer,''says an old salt, pointing with the sharp of his hand to leeward;``I know that by the look of the clouds.''

Then came all manner of calculations and conjectures as to thecontinuance of the wind, the weather under the line, the southeasttrades, &c., and rough guesses as to the time the ship would be upwith the Horn; and some, more venturous, gave her so many days toBoston Light, and offered to bet that she would not exceed it.

``Yes,'' says another, ``you may see Boston, but you've got to`smell hell' before that good day.''

Rumors also of what had been said in the cabin, as usual, foundtheir way forward. The steward had heard the captain say somethingabout the Straits of Magellan, and the man at the wheel fancied hehad heard him tell the ``passenger'' that, if he found the windahead and the weather very bad off the Cape, he should stick heroff for New Holland, and come home round the Cape of Good Hope.

This passenger-- the first and only one we had had, except to gofrom port to port, on the coast-- was no one else than a gentlemanwhom I had known in my smoother days, and the last person I shouldhave expected to see on the coast of California,-- ProfessorNuttall, of Cambridge. I had left him quietly seated in the chairof Botany and Ornithology in Harvard University, and the next Isaw of him, he was strolling about San Diego beach, in a sailor'spea-jacket, with a wide straw hat, and barefooted, with histrousers rolled up to his knees, picking up stones and shells. Hehad travelled overland to the Northwest Coast, and come down in asmall vessel to Monterey. There he learned that there was a shipat the leeward about to sail for Boston, and, taking passage inthe Pilgrim, which was then at Monterey, he came slowly along,visiting the intermediate ports, and examining the trees, plants,earths, birds, &c., and joined us at San Diego shortly before wesailed. The second mate of the Pilgrim told me that they had anold gentleman on board who knew me, and came from the college thatI had been in. He could not recollect his name, but said he was a``sort of an oldish man,'' with white hair, and spent all his timein the bush, and along the beach, picking up flowers and shellsand such truck, and had a dozen boxes and barrels full of them. Ithought over everybody who would be likely to be there, but couldfix upon no one; when, the next day, just as we were about toshove off from the beach, he came down to the boat in the rig Ihave described, with his shoes in his hand, and his pockets fullof specimens. I knew him at once, though I should hardly have beenmore surprised to have seen the Old South steeple shoot up fromthe hide-house. He probably had no more difficulty in recognizingme. As we left home about the same time, we had nothing to telleach other; and, owing to our different situations on board, I sawbut little of him on the passage home. Sometimes, when I was atthe wheel of a calm night, and the steering required littleattention, and the officer of the watch was forward, he would comeaft and hold a short yarn with me; but this was against the rulesof the ship, as is, in fact, all intercourse between passengersand the crew. I was often amused to see the sailors puzzled toknow what to make of him, and to hear their conjectures about himand his business. They were as much at a loss as our old sailmakerwas with the captain's instruments in the cabin. He said therewere three,-- the chro-nometer, the chre-nometer, and thethe-nometer. The Pilgrim's crew called Mr. Nuttall ``OldCurious,'' from his zeal for curiosities; and some of them saidthat he was crazy, and that his friends let him go about and amusehimself in this way. Why else a rich man (sailors call every manrich who does not work with his hands, and who wears a long coatand cravat) should leave a Christian country and come to such aplace as California to pick up shells and stones, they could notunderstand. One of them, however, who had seen something more ofthe world ashore, set all to rights, as he thought; ``O, 'vastthere! You don't know anything about them craft. I've seen themcolleges and know the ropes. They keep all such things forcur'osities, and study 'em, and have men a purpose to go and get'em. This old chap knows what he's about. He a'n't the child youtake him for. He'll carry all these things to the college, and ifthey are better than any that they have had before, he'll be headof the college. Then, by and by, somebody else will go after somemore, and if they beat him he'll have to go again, or else give uphis berth. That's the way they do it. This old covey knows theropes. He has worked a traverse over 'em, and come 'way out herewhere nobody's ever been afore, and where they'll never think ofcoming.'' This explanation satisfied Jack; and as it raised Mr.Nuttall's credit, and was near enough to the truth for commonpurposes, I did not disturb it.

With the exception of Mr. Nuttall, we had no one on board but theregular ship's company and the live stock. Upon the stock we hadmade a considerable inroad. We killed one of the bullocks everyfour days, so that they did not last us up to the line. We, orrather the cabin, then began upon the sheep and the poultry, forthese never come into Jack's mess.[2] The pigs were left for thelatter part of the voyage, for they are sailors, and can stand allweathers. We had an old sow on board, the mother of a numerousprogeny, who had been twice round the Cape of Good Hope and onceround Cape Horn. The last time going round was very nearly herdeath. We heard her squealing and moaning one dark night after ithad been snowing and hailing for several hours, and, climbing overinto the sty, we found her nearly frozen to death. We got somestraw, an old sail, and other things, and wrapped her up in acorner of the sty, where she stayed until we came into fineweather again.

Wednesday, May 18th. Lat. 9 54' N., lon. 113 17' W. The northeasttrades had now left us, and we had the usual variable winds, the``doldrums,'' which prevail near the line, together with some rain.So long as we were in these latitudes, we had but little rest inour watch on deck at night; for, as the winds were light andvariable, and we could not lose a breath, we were all the watchbracing the yards, and taking in and making sail, and ``humbugging''with our flying kites. A little puff of wind on the larboardquarter, and then-- ``larboard fore braces!''-- and studding-sailbooms were rigged out, studding-sails set alow and aloft, the yardstrimmed, and jibs and spanker in; when it would come as calm as aduck-pond, the man at the wheel standing with the palm of his handup, feeling for the wind. ``Keep her off a little!'' ``All abackforward, sir!'' cries a man from the forecastle. Down go the bracesagain; in come the studding-sails, all in a mess, which half anhour won't set right; yards braced sharp up, and she's on thestarboard tack, close-hauled. The studding-sails must now becleared away, and set up in the tops and on the booms, and thegear cut off and made fast. By the time this is done, and you arelooking out for a soft plank for a nap,-- ``Lay aft here, and squarein the head yards!'' and the studding-sails are all set again on thestarboard side. So it goes until it is eight bells,-- call thewatch,-- heave the log,-- relieve the wheel, and go below thelarboard watch.

Sunday, May 22d. Lat. 5 14' N., lon. 166 45' W. We were now afortnight out, and within five degrees of the line, to which twodays of good breeze would take us; but we had, for the most part,what the sailors call ``an Irishman's hurricane,-- right up anddown.'' This day it rained nearly all day, and, being Sunday andnothing to do, we stopped up the scuppers and filled the decks withrain water, and, bringing all our clothes on deck, had a grand wash,fore and aft. When this was through, we stripped to our drawers,and taking pieces of soap, with strips of canvas for towels, weturned-to and soaped, washed, and scrubbed one another down, toget off, as we said, the California grime; for the common wash insalt water, which is all that Jack can get, being on an allowanceof fresh, had little efficacy, and was more for taste thanutility. The captain was below all the afternoon, and we hadsomething nearer to Saturnalia than anything we had yet seen; forthe mate came into the scuppers, with a couple of boys to scrubhim, and got into a contest with them in heaving water. Byunplugging the holes, we let the soapsuds off the decks, and in ashort time had a new supply of clear rain water, in which we had agrand rinsing. It was surprising to see how much soap and freshwater did for the complexions of many of us; how much of what wesupposed to be tan and sea-blacking we got rid of. The next day,the sun rising clear, the ship was covered, fore and aft, withclothes of all sorts, hanging out to dry.

As we approached the line, the wind became more easterly, and theweather clearer, and in twenty days from San Diego,--

Saturday, May 28th, at about three P.M., with a fine breeze fromthe east-southeast, we crossed the equator. In twenty-four hoursafter crossing the line, we took, which was very unusual, theregular southeast trades. These winds come a little from theeastward of southeast, and with us they blew directly from theeast-southeast, which was fortunate for us, as our course wassouth-by-west, and we could thus go one point free. The yards werebraced so that every sail drew, from the spanker to theflying-jib; and, the upper yards being squared in a little, thefore and main top-gallant studding-sails were set, and drewhandsomely. For twelve days this breeze blew steadily, not varyinga point, and just so fresh that we could carry our royals; andduring the whole time we hardly started a brace. Such progress didwe make that at the end of seven days from the time we took thebreeze, on--

Sunday, June 5th, we were in lat. 19 29' S., and lon. 118 01' W.,having made twelve hundred miles in seven days, very nearly upon ataut bowline. Our good ship was getting to be herself again, and hadincreased her rate of sailing more than one third since leaving SanDiego. The crew ceased complaining of her, and the officers hove thelog every two hours with evident satisfaction. This was glorioussailing. A steady breeze; the light tradewind clouds over our heads;the incomparable temperature of the Pacific,-- neither hot nor cold;a clear sun every day, and clear moon and stars every night, and newconstellations rising in the south, and the familiar ones sinkingin the north, as we went on our course,-- ``stemming nightlytoward the pole.'' Already we had sunk the North Star and theGreat Bear, while the Southern Cross appeared well above thesouthern horizon, and all hands looked out sharp to the southwardfor the Magellan Clouds, which, each succeeding night, we expectedto make. ``The next time we see the North Star,'' said one, ``weshall be standing to the northward, the other side of the Horn.''This was true enough, and no doubt it would be a welcome sight,for sailors say that in coming home from round Cape Horn, or theCape of Good Hope, the North Star is the first land you make.

These trades were the same that in the passage out in the Pilgrimlasted nearly all the way from Juan Fernandez to the line; blowingsteadily on our starboard quarter for three weeks, without ourstarting a brace, or even brailing down the skysails. Though wehad now the same wind, and were in the same latitude with thePilgrim on her passage out, yet we were nearly twelve hundredmiles to the westward of her course; for the captain, dependingupon the strong southwest winds which prevail in high southernlatitudes during the winter months, took the full advantage of thetrades, and stood well to the westward, so far that we passedwithin about two hundred miles of Ducie's Island.

It was this weather and sailing that brought to my mind a littleincident that occurred on board the Pilgrim, while we were in thesame latitude. We were going along at a great rate, dead beforethe wind, with studding-sails out on both sides, alow and aloft,on a dark night, just after midnight, and everything as still asthe grave, except the washing of the water by the vessel's side;for, being before the wind, with a smooth sea, the little brig,covered with canvas, was doing great business with very littlenoise. The other watch was below, and all our watch, except myselfand the man at the wheel, were asleep under the lee of the boat.The second mate, who came out before the mast, and was always verythick with me, had been holding a yarn with me, and just gone aftto his place on the quarter-deck, and I had resumed my usual walkto and from the windlass-end, when, suddenly, we heard a loudscream coming from ahead, apparently directly from under the bows.The darkness, and complete stillness of the night, and thesolitude of the ocean, gave to the sound a dreadful and almostsupernatural effect. I stood perfectly still, and my heart beatquick. The sound woke up the rest of the watch, who stood lookingat one another. ``What, in the name of God, is that?'' said thesecond mate, coming slowly forward. The first thought I had was,that it might be a boat, with the crew of some wrecked vessel, orperhaps the boat of some whale-ship, out over night, and we hadrun it down in the darkness. Another scream! but less loud thanthe first. This started us, and we ran forward, and looked overthe bows, and over the sides, to leeward, but nothing was to beseen or heard. What was to be done? Heave the ship aback, and callthe captain? Just at this moment, in crossing the forecastle, oneof the men saw a light below, and, looking down the scuttle, sawthe watch all out of their berths, and afoul of one poor fellow,dragging him out of his berth, and shaking him, to wake him out ofa nightmare. They had been waked out of their sleep, and as muchalarmed at the scream as we were, and were hesitating whether tocome on deck, when the second sound, proceeding directly from oneof the berths, revealed the cause of the alarm. The fellow got agood shaking for the trouble he had given. We made a joke of thematter; and we could well laugh, for our minds were not a littlerelieved by its ridiculous termination.

We were now close upon the southern tropical line, and, with sofine a breeze, were daily leaving the sun behind us, and drawingnearer to Cape Horn, for which it behooved us to make everypreparation. Our rigging was all overhauled and mended, or changedfor new, where it was necessary; new and strong bobstays fitted inthe place of the chain ones, which were worn out; the spritsailyard and martingale guys and back-ropes set well taut; bran-newfore and main braces rove; top-gallant sheets, and wheelropes,made of green hide, laid up in the form of rope, were stretchedand fitted; and new topsail clew-lines, &c. rove; new fore-topmastbackstays fitted; and other preparations made in good season, thatthe ropes might have time to stretch and become limber before wegot into cold weather.

Sunday, June 12th. Lat. 26 04' S., lon. 116 31' W. We had now lostthe regular trades, and had the winds variable, principally from thewestward, and kept on in a southerly course, sailing very nearlyupon a meridian, and at the end of the week,--

Sunday, June 19th, were in lat. 34 15' S., and lon. 116 38' W.

[1] On removing the cat-head, after the ship arrived at Boston, itwas found that there were two holes under it which had been boredfor the purpose of driving treenails, and which, accidentally, hadnot been plugged up when the cat-head was placed over them. Thisprovoking little piece of negligence caused us great discomfort.

[2] The customs as to the allowance of ``grub'' are very nearly thesame in all American merchantmen. Whenever a pig is killed, thesailors have one mess from it. The rest goes to the cabin. Thesmaller live stock, poultry, &c. the sailors never taste. Andindeed they do not complain of this, for it would take a greatdeal to supply them with a good meal; and without theaccompaniments (which could hardly be furnished to them), it wouldnot be much better than salt beef. But even as to the salt beefthey are scarcely dealt fairly with; for whenever a barrel isopened, before any of the beef is put into the harness-cask, thesteward comes up and picks it all over, and takes out the bestpieces (those that have any fat in them) for the cabin. This wasdone in both the vessels I was in, and the men said that it wasusual in other vessels. Indeed, it is made no secret, and some ofthe crew are usually called to help in assorting and putting awaythe pieces. By this arrangement the hard, dry pieces, which thesailors call ``old horse,'' come to their share.

There is a singular piece of rhyme, traditional among sailors,which they say over such pieces of beef. I do not know that itever appeared in print before. When seated round the kid, if aparticularly bad piece is found, one of them takes it up, andaddresses it thus:--

```Old horse! old horse! what brought you here?' `From Sacarap to Portland Pier I've carted stone this many a year; Till, killed by blows and sore abuse, They salted me down for sailors' use. The sailors they do me despise; They turn me over and damn my eyes; Cut off my meat, and scrape my bones, And pitch me over to Davy Jones.'''

There is a story current among seamen, that a beef-dealer wasconvicted, at Boston, of having sold old horse for ship's stores,instead of beef, and had been sentenced to be confined in jailuntil he should eat the whole of it; and that he is now lying inBoston jail. I have heard this story often, on board other vesselsbesides those of our own nation. It is very generally believed,and is always highly commended, as a fair instance of retaliatoryjustice.

CHAPTER XXXI

There began now to be a decided change in the appearance of things.The days became shorter and shorter; the sun running lower in itscourse each day, and giving less and less heat, and the nights socold as to prevent our sleeping on deck; the Magellan Clouds insight, of a clear, moonless night; the skies looking cold and angry;and, at times, a long, heavy, ugly sea, setting in from thesouthward, told us what we were coming to. Still, however, we had afine, strong breeze, and kept on our way under as much sail as ourship would bear. Toward the middle of the week, the wind hauled tothe southward, which brought us upon a taut bowline, made the shipmeet, nearly head-on, the heavy swell which rolled from thatquarter; and there was something not at all encouraging in themanner in which she met it. Being still so deep and heavy, shewanted the buoyancy which should have carried her over the seas,and she dropped heavily into them, the water washing over thedecks; and every now and then, when an unusually large sea met herfairly upon the bows, she struck it with a sound as dead and heavyas that with which a sledge-hammer falls upon the pile, and tookthe whole of it in upon the forecastle, and, rising, carried itaft in the scuppers, washing the rigging off the pins, andcarrying along with it everything which was loose on deck. She hadbeen acting in this way all of our forenoon watch below; as wecould tell by the washing of the water over our heads, and theheavy breaking of the seas against her bows, only the thickness ofa plank from our heads, as we lay in our berths, which aredirectly against the bows. At eight bells, the watch was called,and we came on deck, one hand going aft to take the wheel, andanother going to the galley to get the grub for dinner. I stood onthe forecastle, looking at the seas, which were rolling high, asfar as the eye could reach, their tops white with foam, and thebody of them of a deep indigo blue, reflecting the bright rays ofthe sun. Our ship rose slowly over a few of the largest of them,until one immense fellow came rolling on, threatening to coverher, and which I was sailor enough to know, by the ``feeling ofher'' under my feet, she would not rise over. I sprang upon theknight-heads, and, seizing hold of the fore-stay, drew myself upupon it. My feet were just off the stanchion when the bow struckfairly into the middle of the sea, and it washed the ship fore andaft, burying her in the water. As soon as she rose out of it, Ilooked aft, and everything forward of the mainmast, except thelong-boat, which was griped and double-lashed down to thering-bolts, was swept off clear. The galley, the pigsty, thehen-coop, and a large sheep-pen which had been built upon thefore-hatch, were all gone in the twinkling of an eye,-- leavingthe deck as clean as a chin new reaped,-- and not a stick left toshow where anything had stood. In the scuppers lay the galley,bottom up, and a few boards floating about,-- the wreck of thesheep-pen,-- and half a dozen miserable sheep floating among them,wet through, and not a little frightened at the sudden change thathad come upon them. As soon as the sea had washed by, all handssprang up out of the forecastle to see what had become of theship; and in a few moments the cook and Old Bill crawled out fromunder the galley, where they had been lying in the water, nearlysmothered, with the galley over them. Fortunately, it restedagainst the bulwarks, or it would have broken some of their bones.When the water ran off, we picked the sheep up, and put them inthe long-boat, got the galley back in its place, and set things alittle to rights; but, had not our ship had uncommonly highbulwarks and rail, everything must have been washed overboard, notexcepting Old Bill and the cook. Bill had been standing at thegalley-door, with the kid of beef in his hand for the forecastlemess, when away he went, kid, beef, and all. He held on to the kidto the last, like a good fellow, but the beef was gone, and whenthe water had run off we saw it lying high and dry, like a rock atlow tide,-- nothing could hurt that. We took the loss of our beefvery easily, consoling ourselves with the recollection that thecabin had more to lose than we; and chuckled not a little atseeing the remains of the chicken-pie and pancakes floating in thescuppers. ``This will never do!'' was what some said, and everyone felt. Here we were, not yet within a thousand miles of thelatitude of Cape Horn, and our decks swept by a sea not one halfso high as we must expect to find there. Some blamed the captainfor loading his ship so deep when he knew what he must expect;while others said that the wind was always southwest, off theCape, in the winter, and that, running before it, we should notmind the seas so much. When we got down into the forecastle, OldBill, who was somewhat of a croaker,-- having met with a greatmany accidents at sea,-- said that, if that was the way she wasgoing to act, we might as well make our wills, and balance thebooks at once, and put on a clean shirt. ``'Vast there, you bloodyold owl! you're always hanging out blue lights! You're frightenedby the ducking you got in the scuppers, and can't take a joke!What's the use in being always on the lookout for Davy Jones?''``Stand by!'' says another, ``and we'll get an afternoon watchbelow, by this scrape''; but in this they were disappointed, forat two bells all hands were called and set to work, gettinglashings upon everything on deck; and the captain talked ofsending down the long top-gallant-masts; but as the sea went downtoward night, and the wind hauled abeam, we left them standing,and set the studding-sails.

The next day all hands were turned-to upon unbending the oldsails, and getting up the new ones; for a ship, unlike people onshore, puts on her best suit in bad weather. The old sails weresent down, and three new topsails, and new fore and main courses,jib, and fore-topmast staysail, which were made on the coast andnever had been used, were bent, with a complete set of newearings, robands, and reef-points; and reef-tackles were rove tothe courses, and spilling-lines to the topsails. These, with newbraces and clew-lines fore and aft, gave us a good suit of runningrigging.

The wind continued westerly, and the weather and sea less roughsince the day on which we shipped the heavy sea, and we weremaking great progress under studding-sails, with our light sailsall set, keeping a little to the eastward of south; for thecaptain, depending upon westerly winds off the Cape, had kept sofar to the westward that, though we were within about five hundredmiles of the latitude of Cape Horn, we were nearly seventeenhundred miles to the westward of it. Through the rest of the weekwe continued on with a fair wind, gradually, as we got more to thesouthward, keeping a more easterly course, and bringing the windon our larboard quarter, until--

Monday, June 27th. During the first part of this day the windcontinued fair, and, as we were going before it, it did not feelvery cold, so that we kept at work on deck in our common clothesand round jackets. Our watch had an afternoon watch below for thefirst time since leaving San Diego; and, having inquired of thethird mate what the latitude was at noon, and made our usualguesses as to the time she would need to be up with the Horn, weturned-in for a nap. We were sleeping away ``at the rate ofknots,'' when three knocks on the scuttle and ``All hands, ahoy!''started us from our berths. What could be the matter? It did notappear to be blowing hard, and, looking up through the scuttle, wecould see that it was a clear day overhead; yet the watch weretaking in sail. We thought there must be a sail in sight, and thatwe were about to heave-to and speak her; and were justcongratulating ourselves upon it,-- for we had seen neither sailnor land since we left port,-- when we heard the mate's voice ondeck (he turned-in ``all-standing,'' and was always on deck themoment he was called) singing out to the men who were taking inthe studding-sails, and asking where his watch were. We did notwait for a second call, but tumbled up the ladder; and there, onthe starboard bow, was a bank of mist, covering sea and sky, anddriving directly for us. I had seen the same before in my passageround in the Pilgrim, and knew what it meant, and that there wasno time to be lost. We had nothing on but thin clothes, yet therewas not a moment to spare, and at it we went.

The boys of the other watch were in the tops, taking in thetop-gallant studding-sails and the lower and topmaststudding-sails were coming down by the run. It was nothing but``haul down and clew up,'' until we got all the studding-sails in,and the royals, flying jib, and mizzen top-gallant-sail furled,and the ship kept off a little, to take the squall. The fore andmain top-gallant sails were still on her, for the ``old man'' didnot mean to be frightened in broad daylight, and was determined tocarry sail till the last minute. We all stood waiting for itscoming, when the first blast showed us that it was not to betrifled with. Rain, sleet, snow, and wind enough to take ourbreath from us, and make the toughest turn his back to windward!The ship lay nearly over upon her beam-ends; the spars and riggingsnapped and cracked; and her top-gallant-masts bent likewhip-sticks. ``Clew up the fore and main top-gallant-sails!''shouted the captain, and all hands sprang to the clew-lines. Thedecks were standing nearly at an angle of forty-five degrees, andthe ship going like a mad steed through the water, the wholeforward part of her in a smother of foam. The halyards were letgo, and the yard clewed down, and the sheets started, and in a fewminutes the sails smothered and kept in by clewlines andbuntlines. ``Furl 'em, sir?'' asked the mate. ``Let go the topsailhalyards, fore and aft!'' shouted the captain in answer, at thetop of his voice. Down came the topsail yards, the reef-tackleswere manned and hauled out, and we climbed up to windward, andsprang into the weather rigging. The violence of the wind, and thehail and sleet, driving nearly horizontally across the ocean,seemed actually to pin us down to the rigging. It was hard workmaking head against them. One after another we got out upon theyards. And here we had work to do; for our new sails had hardlybeen bent long enough to get the stiffness out of them, and thenew earings and reef-points, stiffened with the sleet, knottedlike pieces of iron wire. Having only our round jackets and strawhats on, we were soon wet through, and it was every moment growingcolder. Our hands were soon numbed, which, added to the stiffnessof everything else, kept us a good while on the yard. After we hadgot the sail hauled upon the yard, we had to wait a long time forthe weather earing to be passed; but there was no fault to befound, for French John was at the earing, and a better sailornever laid out on a yard; so we leaned over the yard and beat ourhands upon the sail to keep them from freezing. At length the wordcame, ``Haul out to leeward,'' and we seized the reef-points andhauled the band taut for the lee earing. ``Taut band-- knotaway,'' and we got the first reef fast, and were just going to laydown, when-- ``Two reefs-- two reefs!'' shouted the mate, and wehad a second reef to take, in the same way. When this was fast wewent down on deck, manned the halyards to leeward, nearly up toour knees in water, set the topsail, and then laid aloft on themain topsail yard, and reefed that sail in the same manner; for,as I have before stated, we were a good deal reduced in numbers,and, to make it worse, the carpenter, only two days before, hadcut his leg with an axe, so that he could not go aloft. Thisweakened us so that we could not well manage more than one topsailat a time, in such weather as this, and, of course, each man'slabor was doubled. From the main topsail yard, we went upon themain yard, and took a reef in the mainsail. No sooner had we goton deck than-- ``Lay aloft there, and close-reef mizzen topsail!''This called me; and, being nearest to the rigging, I got firstaloft, and out to the weather earing. English Ben was up justafter me, and took the lee earing, and the rest of our gang weresoon on the yard, and began to fist the sail, when the mateconsiderately sent up the cook and steward to help us. I could nowaccount for the long time it took to pass the other earings, for,to do my best, with a strong hand to help me at the dog's ear, Icould not get it passed until I heard them beginning to complainin the bunt. One reef after another we took in, until the sail wasclose-reefed, when we went down and hoisted away at the halyards.In the mean time, the jib had been furled and the staysail set,and the ship under her reduced sail had got more upright, and wasunder management; but the two top-gallant-sails were still hangingin the buntlines, and slatting and jerking as though they wouldtake the masts out of her. We gave a look aloft, and knew that ourwork was not done yet; and, sure enough, no sooner did the matesee that we were on deck than-- ``Lay aloft there, four of you,and furl the top-gallant-sails!'' This called me again, and two ofus went aloft up the fore rigging, and two more up the main, uponthe top-gallant yards. The shrouds were now iced over, the sleethaving formed a crust round all the standing rigging, and on theweather side of the masts and yards. When we got upon the yard, myhands were so numb that I could not have cast off the knot of thegasket if it were to save my life. We both lay over the yard for afew seconds, beating our hands upon the sail, until we started theblood into our fingers' ends, and at the next moment our handswere in a burning heat. My companion on the yard was a lad (theboy, George Somerby), who came out in the ship a weak, puny boy,from one of the Boston schools,-- ``no larger than aspritsail-sheet knot,'' nor ``heavier than a paper oflamp-black,'' and ``not strong enough to haul a shad off agridiron,'' but who was now ``as long as a spare topmast, strongenough to knock down an ox, and hearty enough to eat him.'' Wefisted the sail together, and, after six or eight minutes of hardhauling and pulling and beating down the sail, which was about asstiff as sheet-iron, we managed to get it furled; and snuglyfurled it must be, for we knew the mate well enough to be certainthat if it got adrift again we should be called up from our watchbelow, at any hour of the night, to furl it.

I had been on the lookout for a chance to jump below and clap on athick jacket and southwester; but when we got on deck we foundthat eight bells had been struck, and the other watch gone below,so that there were two hours of dog watch for us, and a plenty ofwork to do. It had now set in for a steady gale from thesouthwest; but we were not yet far enough to the southward to makea fair wind of it, for we must give Terra del Fuego a wide berth.The decks were covered with snow, and there was a constant drivingof sleet. In fact, Cape Horn had set in with good earnest. In themidst of all this, and before it became dark, we had all thestudding-sails to make up and stow away, and then to lay aloft andrig in all the booms, fore and aft, and coil away the tacks,sheets, and halyards. This was pretty tough work for four or fivehands, in the face of a gale which almost took us off the yards,and with ropes so stiff with ice that it was almost impossible tobend them. I was nearly half an hour out on the end of the foreyard, trying to coil away and stop down the topmast studding-sailtack and lower halyards. It was after dark when we got through,and we were not a little pleased to hear four bells struck, whichsent us below for two hours, and gave us each a pot of hot teawith our cold beef and bread, and, what was better yet, a suit ofthick, dry clothing, fitted for the weather, in place of our thinclothes, which were wet through and now frozen stiff.

This sudden turn, for which we were so little prepared, was asunacceptable to me as to any of the rest; for I had been troubledfor several days with a slight toothache, and this cold weatherand wetting and freezing were not the best things in the world forit. I soon found that it was getting strong hold, and running overall parts of my face; and before the watch was out I went aft tothe mate, who had charge of the medicine-chest, to get somethingfor it. But the chest showed like the end of a long voyage, forthere was nothing that would answer but a few drops of laudanum,which must be saved for an emergency; so I had only to bear thepain as well as I could.

When we went on deck at eight bells, it had stopped snowing, andthere were a few stars out, but the clouds were still black, andit was blowing a steady gale. Just before midnight, I went aloftand sent down the mizzen royal yard, and had the good luck to doit to the satisfaction of the mate, who said it was done ``out ofhand and ship-shape.'' The next four hours below were but littlerelief to me, for I lay awake in my berth the whole time, from thepain in my face, and heard every bell strike, and, at fouro'clock, turned out with the watch, feeling little spirit for thehard duties of the day. Bad weather and hard work at sea can beborne up against very well if one only has spirit and health; butthere is nothing brings a man down, at such a time, like bodilypain and want of sleep. There was, however, too much to do toallow time to think; for the gale of yesterday, and the heavy seaswe met with a few days before, while we had yet ten degrees moresouthing to make, had convinced the captain that we had somethingbefore us which was not to be trifled with, and orders were givento send down the long top-gallant-masts. The top-gallant and royalyards were accordingly struck, the flying jib-boom rigged in, andthe top-gallant-masts sent down on deck, and all lashed togetherby the side of the long-boat. The rigging was then sent down andcoiled away below, and everything made snug aloft. There was not asailor in the ship who was not rejoiced to see these sticks comedown; for, so long as the yards were aloft, on the least sign of alull, the top-gallant-sails were loosed, and then we had to furlthem again in a snow-squall, and shin up and down single ropescaked with ice, and send royal yards down in the teeth of a galecoming right from the south pole. It was an interesting sight,too, to see our noble ship, dismantled of all her top-hamper oflong tapering masts and yards, and boom pointed with spear-head,which ornamented her in port; and all that canvas, which a fewdays before had covered her like a cloud, from the truck to thewater's edge, spreading far out beyond her hull on either side,now gone; and she stripped, like a wrestler for the fight. Itcorresponded, too, with the desolate character of her situation,--alone, as she was, battling with storms, wind, and ice, at thisextremity of the globe, and in almost constant night.

Friday, July 1st. We were now nearly up to the latitude of CapeHorn, and having over forty degrees of easting to make, we squaredaway the yards before a strong westerly gale, shook a reef out ofthe fore topsail, and stood on our way, east-by-south, with theprospect of being up with the Cape in a week or ten days. As formyself, I had had no sleep for forty-eight hours; and the want ofrest, together with constant wet and cold, had increased theswelling, so that my face was nearly as large as two, and I foundit impossible to get my mouth open wide enough to eat. In thisstate, the steward applied to the captain for some rice to boilfor me, but he only got a-- ``No! d--- you! Tell him to eat saltjunk and hard bread, like the rest of them.'' This was, in truth,what I expected. However, I did not starve, for Mr. Brown, who wasa man as well as a sailor, and had always been a good friend tome, smuggled a pan of rice into the galley, and told the cook toboil it for me, and not let the ``old man'' see it. Had it beenfine weather, or in port, I should have gone below and lain byuntil my face got well; but in such weather as this, andshort-handed as we were, it was not for me to desert my post; so Ikept on deck, and stood my watch and did my duty as well as Icould.

Saturday, July 2d. This day the sun rose fair, but it ran too lowin the heavens to give any heat, or thaw out our sails andrigging; yet the sight of it was pleasant; and we had a steady``reef-topsail breeze'' from the westward. The atmosphere, whichhad previously been clear and cold, for the last few hours grewdamp, and had a disagreeable, wet chilliness in it; and the manwho came from the wheel said he heard the captain tell ``thepassenger'' that the thermometer had fallen several degrees sincemorning, which he could not account for in any other way than bysupposing that there must be ice near us; though such a thing wasrarely heard of in this latitude at this season of the year. Attwelve o'clock we went below, and had just got through dinner,when the cook put his head down the scuttle and told us to come ondeck and see the finest sight that we had ever seen. ``Where away,Doctor?''[1] asked the first man who was up. ``On the larboardbow.'' And there lay, floating in the ocean, several miles off, animmense, irregular mass, its top and points covered with snow, andits centre of a deep indigo color. This was an iceberg, and of thelargest size, as one of our men said who had been in the NorthernOcean. As far as the eye could reach, the sea in every directionwas of a deep blue color, the waves running high and fresh, andsparkling in the light, and in the midst lay this immensemountain-island, its cavities and valleys thrown into deep shade,and its points and pinnacles glittering in the sun. All hands weresoon on deck, looking at it, and admiring in various ways itsbeauty and grandeur. But no description can give any idea of thestrangeness, splendor, and, really, the sublimity, of the sight.Its great size,-- for it must have been from two to three miles incircumference, and several hundred feet in height,-- its slowmotion, as its base rose and sank in the water, and its highpoints nodded against the clouds; the dashing of the waves uponit, which, breaking high with foam, lined its base with a whitecrust; and the thundering sound of the cracking of the mass, andthe breaking and tumbling down of huge pieces; together with itsnearness and approach, which added a slight element of fear,-- allcombined to give to it the character of true sublimity. The mainbody of the mass was, as I have said, of an indigo color, its basecrusted with frozen foam; and as it grew thin and transparenttoward the edges and top, its color shaded off from a deep blue tothe whiteness of snow. It seemed to be drifting slowly toward thenorth, so that we kept away and avoided it. It was in sight allthe afternoon; and when we got to leeward of it the wind diedaway, so that we lay-to quite near it for a greater part of thenight. Unfortunately, there was no moon, but it was a clear night,and we could plainly mark the long, regular heaving of thestupendous mass, as its edges moved slowly against the stars, nowrevealing them, and now shutting them in. Several times in ourwatch loud cracks were heard, which sounded as though they musthave run through the whole length of the iceberg, and severalpieces fell down with a thundering crash, plunging heavily intothe sea. Toward morning a strong breeze sprang up, and we filledaway, and left it astern, and at daylight it was out of sight. Thenext day, which was--

Sunday, July 3d, the breeze continued strong, the air exceedinglychilly, and the thermometer low. In the course of the day we sawseveral icebergs of different sizes, but none so near as the onewhich we saw the day before. Some of them, as well as we couldjudge, at the distance at which we were, must have been as largeas that, if not larger. At noon we were in latitude 55 12' south,and supposed longitude 89 5' west. Toward night the wind hauledto the southward, and headed us off our course a little, and blewa tremendous gale; but this we did not mind, as there was no rainnor snow, and we were already under close sail.

Monday, July 4th. This was ``Independence Day'' in Boston. Whatfiring of guns, and ringing of bells, and rejoicings of all sorts,in every part of our country! The ladies (who have not gone down toNahant, for a breath of cool air and sight of the ocean) walking thestreets with parasols over their heads, and the dandies in theirwhite pantaloons and silk stockings! What quantities of ice-creamhave been eaten, and how many loads of ice brought into the city froma distance, and sold out by the lump and the pound! The smallestof the islands which we saw to-day would have made the fortune ofpoor Jack, if he had had it in Boston; and I dare say he would havehad no objection to being there with it. This, to be sure, was noplace to keep the Fourth of July. To keep ourselves warm, and theship out of the ice, was as much as we could do. Yet no one forgotthe day; and many were the wishes and conjectures and comparisons,both serious and ludicrous, which were made among all hands. The sunshone bright as long as it was up, only that a scud of black cloudswas ever and anon driving across it. At noon we were inlat. 54 27' S., and lon. 85 5' W., having made a good deal ofeasting, but having lost in our latitude by the heading off of thewind. Between daylight and dark-- that is, between nine o'clock andthree-- we saw thirty-four ice islands of various sizes; some nobigger than the hull of our vessel, and others apparently nearly aslarge as the one that we first saw; though, as we went on, theislands became smaller and more numerous; and, at sundown of thisday, a man at the mast-head saw large tracts of floating ice, called``field-ice,'' at the southeast. This kind of ice is much moredangerous than the large islands, for those can be seen at adistance, and kept away from; but the field-ice, floating in greatquantities, and covering the ocean for miles and miles, in piecesof every size,-- large, flat, and broken cakes, with here and therean island rising twenty and thirty feet, and as large as the ship'shull,-- this it is very difficult to sheer clear of. A constantlookout was necessary; for many of these pieces, coming with theheave of the sea, were large enough to have knocked a hole in theship, and that would have been the end of us; for no boat (even ifwe could have got one out) could have lived in such a sea; and noman could have lived in a boat in such weather. To make ourcondition still worse, the wind came out due east, just aftersundown, and it blew a gale dead ahead, with hail and sleet and athick fog, so that we could not see half the length of the ship. Ourchief reliance, the prevailing westerly gales, was thus cut off; andhere we were, nearly seven hundred miles to the westward of theCape, with a gale dead from the eastward, and the weather so thickthat we could not see the ice, with which we were surrounded, untilit was directly under our bows. At four P.M. (it was then quitedark) all hands were called, and sent aloft, in a violent squallof hail and rain, to take in sail. We had now all got on our ``CapeHorn rig,''-- thick boots, southwesters coming down over our neckand ears, thick trousers and jackets, and some with oil-cloth suitsover all. Mittens, too, we wore on deck, but it would not do to goaloft with them, as, being wet and stiff, they might let a manslip overboard, for all the hold he could get upon a rope: so wewere obliged to work with bare hands, which, as well as our faces,were often cut with the hailstones, which fell thick and large.Our ship was now all cased with ice,-- hull, spars, and standingrigging; and the running rigging so stiff that we could hardlybend it so as to belay it, or, still less, take a knot with it;and the sails frozen. One at a time (for it was a long piece ofwork and required many hands) we furled the courses, mizzentopsail, and fore-topmast staysail, and close-reefed the fore andmain topsails, and hove the ship to under the fore, with the mainhauled up by the clew-lines and buntlines, and ready to be sheetedhome, if we found it necessary to make sail to get to windward ofan ice island. A regular lookout was then set, and kept by eachwatch in turn, until the morning. It was a tedious and anxiousnight. It blew hard the whole time, and there was an almostconstant driving of either rain, hail, or snow. In addition tothis, it was ``as thick as muck,'' and the ice was all about us.The captain was on deck nearly the whole night, and kept the cookin the galley, with a roaring fire, to make coffee for him, whichhe took every few hours, and once or twice gave a little to hisofficers; but not a drop of anything was there for the crew. Thecaptain, who sleeps all the daytime, and comes and goes at nightas he chooses, can have his brandy-and-water in the cabin, and hishot coffee at the galley; while Jack, who has to stand througheverything, and work in wet and cold, can have nothing to wet hislips or warm his stomach. This was a ``temperance ship'' by herarticles, and, like too many such ships, the temperance was all inthe forecastle. The sailor, who only takes his one glass as it isdealt out to him, is in danger of being drunk; while the captain,upon whose self-possession and cool judgment the lives of alldepend, may be trusted with any amount, to drink at his will.Sailors will never be convinced that rum is a dangerous thing bytaking it away from them and giving it to the officers; nor canthey see a friend in that temperance which takes from them whatthey have always had, and gives them nothing in the place of it.By seeing it allowed to their officers, they will not be convincedthat it is taken from them for their good; and by receivingnothing in its place they will not believe that it is done inkindness. On the contrary, many of them look upon the change as anew instrument of tyranny. Not that they prefer rum. I never knewa sailor, who had been a month away from the grog shops, who wouldnot prefer a pot of hot coffee or chocolate, in a cold night, toall the rum afloat. They all say that rum only warms them for atime; yet, if they can get nothing better, they will miss whatthey have lost. The momentary warmth and glow from drinking it;the break and change which it makes in a long, dreary watch by themere calling all hands aft and serving of it out; and the simplyhaving some event to look forward to and to talk about,-- all giveit an importance and a use which no one can appreciate who has notstood his watch before the mast. On my passage out, the Pilgrimwas not under temperance articles, and grog was served out everymiddle and morning watch, and after every reefing of topsails;and, though I had never drunk rum before, nor desire to again, Itook my allowance then at the capstan, as the rest did, merely forthe momentary warmth it gave the system, and the change in ourfeelings and aspect of our duties on the watch. At the same time,as I have said, there was not a man on board who would not havepitched the rum to the dogs (I have heard them say so a dozentimes) for a pot of coffee or chocolate; or even for our commonbeverage,-- ``water bewitched and tea begrudged,'' as it was.[2]The temperance reform is the best thing that ever was undertaken forthe sailor; but when the grog is taken from him, he ought to havesomething in its place. As it is now, in most vessels, it is amere saving to the owners; and this accounts for the suddenincrease of temperance ships, which surprised even the bestfriends of the cause. If every merchant, when he struck grog fromthe list of the expenses of his ship, had been obliged tosubstitute as much coffee, or chocolate, as would give each man apot-full when he came off the topsail yard, on a stormy night,--I fear Jack might have gone to ruin on the old road.[3]

But this is not doubling Cape Horn. Eight hours of the night ourwatch was on deck, and during the whole of that time we kept abright lookout: one man on each bow, another in the bunt of thefore yard, the third mate on the scuttle, one man on each quarter,and another always standing by the wheel. The chief mate waseverywhere, and commanded the ship when the captain was below.When a large piece of ice was seen in our way, or drifting nearus, the word was passed along, and the ship's head turned one wayand another; and sometimes the yards squared or braced up. Therewas little else to do than to look out; and we had the sharpesteyes in the ship on the forecastle. The only variety was themonotonous voice of the lookout forward,-- ``Another island!''--``Ice ahead!''-- ``Ice on the lee bow!''-- ``Hard up the helm!''--``Keep her off a little!''-- ``Stead-y!''

In the mean time the wet and cold had brought my face into such astate that I could neither eat nor sleep; and though I stood itout all night, yet, when it became light, I was in such a statethat all hands told me I must go below, and lie-by for a day ortwo, or I should be laid up for a long time. When the watch waschanged I went into the steerage, and took off my hat andcomforter, and showed my face to the mate, who told me to go belowat once, and stay in my berth until the swelling went down, andgave the cook orders to make a poultice for me, and said he wouldspeak to the captain.

I went below and turned-in, covering myself over with blankets andjackets, and lay in my berth nearly twenty-four hours, half asleepand half awake, stupid from the dull pain. I heard the watchcalled, and the men going up and down, and sometimes a noise ondeck, and a cry of ``ice,'' but I gave little attention toanything. At the end of twenty-four hours the pain went down, andI had a long sleep, which brought me back to my proper state; yetmy face was so swollen and tender that I was obliged to keep myberth for two or three days longer. During the two days I had beenbelow, the weather was much the same that it had been,-- headwinds, and snow and rain; or, if the wind came fair, too foggy,and the ice too thick, to run. At the end of the third day the icewas very thick; a complete fog-bank covered the ship. It blew atremendous gale from the eastward, with sleet and snow, and therewas every promise of a dangerous and fatiguing night. At dark, thecaptain called all hands aft, and told them that not a man was toleave the deck that night; that the ship was in the greatestdanger, any cake of ice might knock a hole in her, or she mightrun on an island and go to pieces. No one could tell whether shewould be a ship the next morning. The lookouts were then set, andevery man was put in his station. When I heard what was the stateof things, I began to put on my clothes to stand it out with therest of them, when the mate came below, and, looking at my face,ordered me back to my berth, saying that if we went down, weshould all go down together, but if I went on deck I might laymyself up for life. This was the first word I had heard from aft;for the captain had done nothing, nor inquired how I was, since Iwent below.

In obedience to the mate's orders, I went back to my berth; but amore miserable night I never wish to spend. I never felt the curseof sickness so keenly in my life. If I could only have been ondeck with the rest where something was to be done and seen andheard, where there were fellow-beings for companions in duty anddanger; but to be cooped up alone in a black hole, in equaldanger, but without the power to do, was the hardest trial.Several times, in the course of the night, I got up, determined togo on deck; but the silence which showed that there was nothingdoing, and the knowledge that I might make myself seriously ill,for no purpose, kept me back. It was not easy to sleep, lying, asI did, with my head directly against the bows, which might bedashed in by an island of ice, brought down by the very next seathat struck her. This was the only time I had been ill since Ileft Boston, and it was the worst time it could have happened. Ifelt almost willing to bear the plagues of Egypt for the rest ofthe voyage, if I could but be well and strong for that one night.Yet it was a dreadful night for those on deck. A watch of eighteenhours, with wet and cold and constant anxiety, nearly wore themout; and when they came below at nine o'clock for breakfast, theyalmost dropped asleep on their chests, and some of them were sostiff that they could with difficulty sit down. Not a drop ofanything had been given them during the whole time (though thecaptain, as on the night that I was on deck, had his coffee everyfour hours), except that the mate stole a pot-full of coffee fortwo men to drink behind the galley, while he kept a lookout forthe captain. Every man had his station, and was not allowed toleave it; and nothing happened to break the monotony of the night,except once setting the main topsail, to run clear of a largeisland to leeward, which they were drifting fast upon. Some of theboys got so sleepy and stupefied that they actually fell asleep attheir posts; and the young third mate, Mr. Hatch, whose post wasthe exposed one of standing on the fore scuttle, was so stiff,when he was relieved, that he could not bend his knees to getdown. By a constant lookout, and a quick shifting of the helm, asthe islands and pieces came in sight, the ship went clear ofeverything but a few small pieces, though daylight showed theocean covered for miles. At daybreak it fell a dead calm, and withthe sun the fog cleared a little, and a breeze sprung up from thewestward, which soon grew into a gale. We had now a fair wind,daylight, and comparatively clear weather; yet, to the surprise ofevery one, the ship continued hove-to. ``Why does not he run?''``What is the captain about?'' was asked by every one; and fromquestions it soon grew into complaints and murmurings. When thedaylight was so short, it was too bad to lose it, and a fair wind,too, which every one had been praying for. As hour followed hour,and the captain showed no sign of making sail, the crew becameimpatient, and there was a good deal of talking and consultationtogether on the forecastle. They had been beaten out with theexposure and hardship, and impatient to get out of it, and thisunaccountable delay was more than they could bear in quietness, intheir excited and restless state. Some said the captain wasfrightened,-- completely cowed by the dangers and difficultiesthat surrounded us, and was afraid to make sail; while others saidthat in his anxiety and suspense he had made a free use of brandyand opium, and was unfit for his duty. The carpenter, who was anintelligent man, and a thorough seaman, and had great influencewith the crew, came down into the forecastle, and tried to inducethem to go aft and ask the captain why he did not run, or requesthim, in the name of all hands, to make sail. This appeared to be avery reasonable request, and the crew agreed that if he did notmake sail before noon they would go aft. Noon came, and no sailwas made. A consultation was held again, and it was proposed totake the ship from the captain and give the command of her to themate, who had been heard to say that if he could have his way theship would have been half the distance to the Cape before night,--ice or no ice. And so irritated and impatient had the crew become,that even this proposition, which was open mutiny, wasentertained, and the carpenter went to his berth, leaving ittacitly understood that something serious would be done if thingsremained as they were many hours longer. When the carpenter left,we talked it all over, and I gave my advice strongly against it.Another of the men, too, who had known something of the kindattempted in another ship by a crew who were dissatisfied withtheir captain, and which was followed with serious consequences,was opposed to it. Stimson, who soon came down, joined us, and wedetermined to have nothing to do with it. By these means the crewwere soon induced to give it up for the present, though they saidthey would not lie where they were much longer without knowing thereason.

The affair remained in this state until four o'clock, when anorder came forward for all hands to come aft upon thequarter-deck. In about ten minutes they came forward again, andthe whole affair had been blown. The carpenter, prematurely, andwithout any authority from the crew, had sounded the mate as towhether he would take command of the ship, and intimated anintention to displace the captain; and the mate, as in duty bound,had told the whole to the captain, who immediately sent for allhands aft. Instead of violent measures, or, at least, an outbreakof quarter-deck bravado, threats, and abuse, which they had everyreason to expect, a sense of common danger and common sufferingseemed to have tamed his spirit, and begotten in him somethinglike a humane fellow-feeling; for he received the crew in a mannerquiet, and even almost kind. He told them what he had heard, andsaid that he did not believe that they would try to do any suchthing as was intimated; that they had always been good men,--obedient, and knew their duty, and he had no fault to find withthem, and asked them what they had to complain of; said that noone could say that he was slow to carry sail (which was trueenough), and that, as soon as he thought it was safe and proper,he should make sail. He added a few words about their duty intheir present situation, and sent them forward, saying that heshould take no further notice of the matter; but, at the sametime, told the carpenter to recollect whose power he was in, andthat if he heard another word from him he would have cause toremember him to the day of his death.

This language of the captain had a very good effect upon the crew,and they returned quietly to their duty.

For two days more the wind blew from the southward and eastward,and in the short intervals when it was fair, the ice was too thickto run; yet the weather was not so dreadfully bad, and the crewhad watch and watch. I still remained in my berth, fastrecovering, yet not well enough to go safely on deck. And I shouldhave been perfectly useless; for, from having eaten nothing fornearly a week, except a little rice which I forced into my mouththe last day or two, I was as weak as an infant. To be sick in aforecastle is miserable indeed. It is the worst part of a dog'slife, especially in bad weather. The forecastle, shut up tight tokeep out the water and cold air; the watch either on deck orasleep in their berths; no one to speak to; the pale light of thesingle lamp, swinging to and fro from the beam, so dim that onecan scarcely see, much less read, by it; the water dropping fromthe beams and carlines and running down the sides, and theforecastle so wet and dark and cheerless, and so lumbered up withchests and wet clothes, that sitting up is worse than lying in theberth. These are some of the evils. Fortunately, I needed no helpfrom any one, and no medicine; and if I had needed help I don'tknow where I should have found it. Sailors are willing enough, butit is true, as is often said,-- no one ships for nurse on board avessel. Our merchant ships are always undermanned, and if one manis lost by sickness, they cannot spare another to take care ofhim. A sailor is always presumed to be well, and if he's sick he'sa poor dog. One has to stand his wheel, and another his lookout,and the sooner he gets on deck again the better.

Accordingly, as soon as I could possibly go back to my duty, I puton my thick clothes and boots and southwester, and made myappearance on deck. I had been but a few days below, yeteverything looked strangely enough. The ship was cased in ice,--decks, sides, masts, yards, and rigging. Two close-reefed topsailswere all the sail she had on, and every sail and rope was frozenso stiff in its place that it seemed as though it would beimpossible to start anything. Reduced, too, to her topmasts, shehad altogether a most forlorn and crippled appearance. The sun hadcome up brightly; the snow was swept off the decks and ashesthrown upon them so that we could walk, for they had been asslippery as glass. It was, of course, too cold to carry on anyship's work, and we had only to walk the deck and keep ourselveswarm. The wind was still ahead, and the whole ocean, to theeastward, covered with islands and field-ice. At four bells theorder was given to square away the yards, and the man who camefrom the helm said that the captain had kept her off to N. N. E.What could this mean? The wildest rumors got adrift. Some saidthat he was going to put into Valparaiso and winter, and othersthat he was going to run out of the ice and cross the Pacific, andgo home round the Cape of Good Hope. Soon, however, it leaked out,and we found that we were running for the Straits of Magellan. Thenews soon spread through the ship, and all tongues were at worktalking about it. No one on board had been through the straits;but I had in my chest an account of the passage of the ship A. J.Donelson, of New York, through those straits a few years before.The account was given by the captain, and the representation wasas favorable as possible. It was soon read by every one on board,and various opinions pronounced. The determination of our captainhad at least this good effect; it gave us something to think andtalk about, made a break in our life, and diverted our minds fromthe monotonous dreariness of the prospect before us. Having made afair wind of it, we were going off at a good rate, and leaving thethickest of the ice behind us. This, at least, was something.

Having been long enough below to get my hands well warmed andsoftened, the first handling of the ropes was rather tough; but afew days hardened them, and as soon as I got my mouth open wideenough to take in a piece of salt beef and hard bread, I was allright again.

Sunday, July 10th. Lat. 54 10', lon. 79 07'. This was our positionat noon. The sun was out bright; the ice was all left behind, andthings had quite a cheering appearance. We brought our wetpea-jackets and trousers on deck, and hung them up in the rigging,that the breeze and the few hours of sun might dry them a little;and, by leave of the cook, the galley was nearly filled withstockings and mittens, hung round to be dried. Boots, too, werebrought up; and, having got a little tar and slush from below, wegave them thick coats. After dinner all hands were turned-to, to getthe anchors over the bows, bend on the chains, &c. The fish-tacklewas got up, fish-davit rigged out, and, after two or three hours ofhard and cold work, both the anchors were ready for instant use, acouple of kedges got up, a hawser coiled away upon the fore-hatch,and the deep-sea-lead-line overhauled and made ready. Our spiritsreturned with having something to do; and when the tackle wasmanned to bowse the anchor home, notwithstanding the desolation ofthe scene, we struck up ``Cheerly, men!'' in full chorus. Thispleased the mate, who rubbed his hands and cried out, ``That'sright, my boys; never say die! That sounds like the old crew!''and the captain came up, on hearing the song, and said to thepassenger, within hearing of the man at the wheel, ``That soundslike a lively crew. They'll have their song so long as there'reenough left for a chorus!''

This preparation of the cable and anchors was for the passage ofthe straits; for, as they are very crooked, and with a variety ofcurrents, it is necessary to come frequently to anchor. This wasnot, by any means, a pleasant prospect; for, of all the work thata sailor is called upon to do in cold weather, there is none sobad as working the ground-tackle. The heavy chain cables to behauled and pulled about decks with bare hands; wet hawsers,slip-ropes, and buoy-ropes to be hauled aboard, dripping in water,which is running up your sleeves, and freezing; clearing hawseunder the bows; getting under way and coming-to at all hours ofthe night and day, and a constant lookout for rocks and sands andturns of tides,-- these are some of the disagreeables of such anavigation to a common sailor. Fair or foul, he wants to havenothing to do with the ground-tackle between port and port. One ofour hands, too, had unluckily fallen upon a half of an oldnewspaper which contained an account of the passage, through thestraits, of a Boston brig, called, I think, the Peruvian, in whichshe lost every cable and anchor she had, got aground twice, andarrived at Valparaiso in distress. This was set off against theaccount of the A. J. Donelson, and led us to look forward withless confidence to the passage, especially as no one on board hadever been through, and we heard that the captain had no verysatisfactory charts. However, we were spared any furtherexperience on the point; for the next day, when we must have beennear the Cape of Pillars, which is the southwest point of themouth of the straits, a gale set in from the eastward, with aheavy fog, so that we could not see half the ship's length ahead.This, of course, put an end to the project for the present; for athick fog and a gale blowing dead ahead are not the most favorablecircumstances for the passage of difficult and dangerous straits.This weather, too, seemed likely to last for some time, and wecould not think of beating about the mouth of the straits for aweek or two, waiting for a favorable opportunity; so we braced upon the larboard tack, put the ship's head due south, and stuck heroff for Cape Horn again.

[1] The cook's title in all vessels.

[2] The proportions of the ingredients of the tea that was made forus (and ours, as I have before stated, was a favorable specimen ofAmerican merchantmen) were a pint of tea and a pint and a half ofmolasses to about three gallons of water. These are all boileddown together in the ``coppers,'' and, before serving it out, themess is stirred up with a stick, so as to give each man his fairshare of sweetening and tea-leaves. The tea for the cabin is, ofcourse, made in the usual way, in a teapot, and drunk with sugar.

[3] I do not wish these remarks, so far as they relate to the savingof expense in the outfit, to be applied to the owners of our ship,for she was supplied with an abundance of stores of the best kindthat are given to seamen; though the dispensing of them isnecessarily left to the captain. And I learned, on our return,that the captain withheld many of the stores from us, from mereugliness. He brought several barrels of flour home, but would notgive us the usual twice-a-week duff, and so as to other stores.Indeed, so high was the reputation of ``the employ'' among men andofficers for the character and outfit of their vessels, and fortheir liberality in conducting their voyages, that when it wasknown that they had the Alert fitting out for a long voyage, andthat hands were to be shipped at a certain time,-- a half hourbefore the time, as one of the crew told me, sailors were steeringdown the wharf, hopping over the barrels, like a drove of sheep.

CHAPTER XXXII

In our first attempt to double the Cape, when we came up to thelatitude of it, we were nearly seventeen hundred miles to thewestward, but, in running for the Straits of Magellan, we stood sofar to the eastward that we made our second attempt at a distanceof not more than four or five hundred miles; and we had greathopes, by this means, to run clear of the ice; thinking that theeasterly gales, which had prevailed for a long time, would havedriven it to the westward. With the wind about two points free,the yards braced in a little, and two close-reefed topsails and areefed foresail on the ship, we made great way toward thesouthward; and almost every watch, when we came on deck, the airseemed to grow colder, and the sea to run higher. Still we saw noice, and had great hopes of going clear of it altogether, when,one afternoon, about three o'clock, while we were taking a siestaduring our watch below, ``All hands!'' was called in a loud andfearful voice. ``Tumble up here, men!-- tumble up!-- don't stopfor your clothes-- before we're upon it!'' We sprang out of ourberths and hurried upon deck. The loud, sharp voice of the captainwas heard giving orders, as though for life or death, and we ranaft to the braces, not waiting to look ahead, for not a moment wasto be lost. The helm was hard up, the after yards shaking, and theship in the act of wearing. Slowly, with the stiff ropes and icedrigging, we swung the yards round, everything coming hard and witha creaking and rending sound, like pulling up a plank which hasbeen frozen into the ice. The ship wore round fairly, the yardswere steadied, and we stood off on the other tack, leaving behindus, directly under our larboard quarter, a large ice island,peering out of the mist, and reaching high above our tops; whileastern, and on either side of the island, large tracts offield-ice were dimly seen, heaving and rolling in the sea. We werenow safe, and standing to the northward; but, in a few minutesmore, had it not been for the sharp lookout of the watch, weshould have been fairly upon the ice, and left our ship's oldbones adrift in the Southern Ocean. After standing to thenorthward a few hours, we wore ship, and, the wind having hauled,we stood to the southward and eastward. All night long a brightlookout was kept from every part of the deck; and whenever ice wasseen on the one bow or the other the helm was shifted and theyards braced, and, by quick working of the ship, she was keptclear. The accustomed cry of ``Ice ahead!''-- ``Ice on the leebow!''-- ``Another island!'' in the same tones, and with the sameorders following them, seemed to bring us directly back to our oldposition of the week before. During our watch on deck, which wasfrom twelve to four, the wind came out ahead, with a pelting stormof hail and sleet, and we lay hove-to, under a close-reefed foretopsail, the whole watch. During the next watch it fell calm witha drenching rain until daybreak, when the wind came out to thewestward, and the weather cleared up, and showed us the wholeocean, in the course which we should have steered, had it not beenfor the head wind and calm, completely blocked up with ice. Here,then, our progress was stopped, and we wore ship, and once morestood to the northward and eastward; not for the Straits ofMagellan, but to make another attempt to double the Cape, stillfarther to the eastward; for the captain was determined to getround if perseverance could do it, and the third time, he said,never failed.

With a fair wind we soon ran clear of the field-ice, and by noonhad only the stray islands floating far and near upon the ocean.The sun was out bright, the sea of a deep blue, fringed with thewhite foam of the waves, which ran high before a strongsouthwester; our solitary ship tore on through the open water asthough glad to be out of her confinement; and the ice islands layscattered here and there, of various sizes and shapes, reflectingthe bright rays of the sun, and drifting slowly northward beforethe gale. It was a contrast to much that we had lately seen, and aspectacle not only of beauty, but of life; for it required butlittle fancy to imagine these islands to be animate masses whichhad broken loose from the ``thrilling regions of thick-ribbedice,'' and were working their way, by wind and current, somealone, and some in fleets, to milder climes. No pencil has everyet given anything like the true effect of an iceberg. In apicture, they are huge, uncouth masses, stuck in the sea, whiletheir chief beauty and grandeur-- their slow, stately motion, thewhirling of the snow about their summits, and the fearful groaningand cracking of their parts-- the picture cannot give. This is thelarge iceberg,-- while the small and distant islands, floating onthe smooth sea, in the light of a clear day, look like littlefloating fairy isles of sapphire.

From a northeast course we gradually hauled to the eastward, andafter sailing about two hundred miles, which brought us as near tothe western coast of Terra del Fuego as was safe, and having lostsight of the ice altogether,-- for the third time we put theship's head to the southward, to try the passage of the Cape. Theweather continued clear and cold, with a strong gale from thewestward, and we were fast getting up with the latitude of theCape, with a prospect of soon being round. One fine afternoon, aman who had gone into the fore-top to shift the rolling tacklessung out at the top of his voice, and with evident glee, ``Sailho!'' Neither land nor sail had we seen since leaving San Diego;and only those who have traversed the length of a whole oceanalone can imagine what an excitement such an announcement producedon board. ``Sail ho!'' shouted the cook, jumping out of hisgalley; ``Sail ho!'' shouted a man, throwing back the slide of thescuttle, to the watch below, who were soon out of their berths andon deck; and ``Sail ho!'' shouted the captain down thecompanion-way to the passenger in the cabin. Beside the pleasureof seeing a ship and human beings in so desolate a place, it wasimportant for us to speak a vessel, to learn whether there was iceto the eastward, and to ascertain the longitude; for we had nochronometer, and had been drifting about so long that we hadnearly lost our reckoning; and opportunities for lunarobservations are not frequent or sure in such a place as CapeHorn. For these various reasons the excitement in our littlecommunity was running high, and conjectures were made, andeverything thought of for which the captain would hail, when theman aloft sung out-- ``Another sail, large on the weather bow!''This was a little odd, but so much the better, and did not shakeour faith in their being sails. At length the man in the tophailed, and said he believed it was land, after all. ``Land inyour eye!'' said the mate, who was looking through the telescope;``they are ice islands, if I can see a hole through a ladder'';and a few moments showed the mate to be right; and all ourexpectations fled; and instead of what we most wished to see wehad what we most dreaded, and what we hoped we had seen the lastof. We soon, however, left these astern, having passed withinabout two miles of them, and at sundown the horizon was clear inall directions.

Having a fine wind, we were soon up with and passed the latitudeof the Cape, and, having stood far enough to the southward to giveit a wide berth, we began to stand to the eastward, with a goodprospect of being round and steering to the northward, on theother side, in a very few days. But ill luck seemed to havelighted upon us. Not four hours had we been standing on in thiscourse before it fell dead calm, and in half an hour it cloudedup, a few straggling blasts, with spits of snow and sleet, camefrom the eastward, and in an hour more we lay hove-to under aclose-reefed main topsail, drifting bodily off to leeward beforethe fiercest storm that we had yet felt, blowing dead ahead, fromthe eastward. It seemed as though the genius of the place had beenroused at finding that we had nearly slipped through his fingers,and had come down upon us with tenfold fury. The sailors said thatevery blast, as it shook the shrouds, and whistled through therigging, said to the old ship, ``No, you don't!''-- ``No, youdon't!''

For eight days we lay drifting about in this manner. Sometimes--generally towards noon-- it fell calm; once or twice a roundcopper ball showed itself for a few moments in the place where thesun ought to have been, and a puff or two came from the westward,giving some hope that a fair wind had come at last. During thefirst two days we made sail for these puffs, shaking the reefs outof the topsails and boarding the tacks of the courses; but findingthat it only made work for us when the gale set in again, it wassoon given up, and we lay-to under our close-reefs. We had lesssnow and hail than when we were farther to the westward, but wehad an abundance of what is worse to a sailor in cold weather,--drenching rain. Snow is blinding, and very bad when coming upon acoast, but, for genuine discomfort, give me rain with freezingweather. A snowstorm is exciting, and it does not wet through theclothes (a fact important to a sailor); but a constant rain thereis no escaping from. It wets to the skin, and makes all protectionvain. We had long ago run through all our dry clothes, and assailors have no other way of drying them than by the sun, we hadnothing to do but to put on those which were the least wet. At theend of each watch, when we came below, we took off our clothes andwrung them out; two taking hold of a pair of trousers, one at eachend,-- and jackets in the same way. Stockings, mittens, and all,were wrung out also, and then hung up to drain and chafe dryagainst the bulkheads. Then, feeling of all our clothes, we pickedout those which were the least wet, and put them on, so as to beready for a call, and turned-in, covered ourselves up withblankets, and slept until three knocks on the scuttle and thedismal sound of ``All Starbowlines ahoy! Eight bells, there below!Do you hear the news?'' drawled out from on deck, and the sulkyanswer of ``Aye, aye!'' from below, sent us up again.

On deck all was dark, and either a dead calm, with the rainpouring steadily down, or, more generally, a violent gale deadahead, with rain pelting horizontally, and occasional variationsof hail and sleet; decks afloat with water swashing from side toside, and constantly wet feet, for boots could not be wrung outlike drawers, and no composition could stand the constant soaking.In fact, wet and cold feet are inevitable in such weather, and arenot the least of those items which go to make up the grand totalof the discomforts of a winter passage round Cape Horn. Few wordswere spoken between the watches as they shifted; the wheel wasrelieved, the mate took his place on the quarter-deck, thelookouts in the bows; and each man had his narrow space to walkfore and aft in, or rather to swing himself forward and back in,from one belaying-pin to another, for the decks were too slipperywith ice and water to allow of much walking. To make a walk, whichis absolutely necessary to pass away the time, one of us hit uponthe expedient of sanding the decks; and afterwards, whenever therain was not so violent as to wash it off, the weather-side of thequarter-deck, and a part of the waist and forecastle weresprinkled with the sand which we had on board for holystoning, andthus we made a good promenade, where we walked fore and aft, twoand two, hour after hour, in our long, dull, and comfortlesswatches. The bells seemed to be an hour or two apart, instead ofhalf an hour, and an age to elapse before the welcome sound ofeight bells. The sole object was to make the time pass on. Anychange was sought for which would break the monotony of the time;and even the two hours' trick at the wheel, which came round to usin turn, once in every other watch, was looked upon as a relief.The never-failing resource of long yarns, which eke out many awatch, seemed to have failed us now; for we had been so longtogether that we had heard each other's stories told over and overagain till we had them by heart; each one knew the whole historyof each of the others, and we were fairly and literally talkedout. Singing and joking we were in no humor for; and, in fact, anysound of mirth or laughter would have struck strangely upon ourears, and would not have been tolerated any more than whistling ora wind instrument. The last resort, that of speculating upon thefuture, seemed now to fail us; for our discouraging situation, andthe danger we were really in (as we expected every day to findourselves drifted back among the ice), ``clapped a stopper'' uponall that. From saying ``when we get home,'' we began insensibly toalter it to ``if we get home,'' and at last the subject wasdropped by a tacit consent.

In this state of things, a new light was struck out, and a newfield opened, by a change in the watch. One of our watch was laidup for two or three days by a bad hand (for in cold weather theleast cut or bruise ripens into a sore), and his place wassupplied by the carpenter. This was a windfall, and there was acontest who should have the carpenter to walk with him. As``Chips'' was a man of some little education, and he and I had hada good deal of intercourse with each other, he fell in with me inmy walk. He was a Fin, but spoke English well, and gave me longaccounts of his country,-- the customs, the trade, the towns, whatlittle he knew of the government (I found he was no friend ofRussia), his voyages, his first arrival in America, his marriageand courtship; he had married a countrywoman of his, adress-maker, whom he met with in Boston. I had very little to tellhim of my quiet, sedentary life at home; and in spite of our bestefforts, which had protracted these yarns through five or sixwatches, we fairly talked each other out, and I turned him over toanother man in the watch, and put myself upon my own resources.

I commenced a deliberate system of time-killing, which united someprofit with a cheering up of the heavy hours. As soon as I came ondeck, and took my place and regular walk, I began with repeatingover to myself in regular order a string of matters which I had inmy memory,-- the multiplication table and the tables of weightsand measures; the Kanaka numerals; then the States of the Union,with their capitals; the counties of England, with their shiretowns, and the kings of England in their order, and other things.This carried me through my facts, and, being repeateddeliberately, with long intervals, often eked out the first twobells. Then came the Ten Commandments, the thirty-ninth chapter ofJob, and a few other passages from Scripture. The next in theorder, which I seldom varied from, came Cowper's Castaway, whichwas a great favorite with me; its solemn measure and gloomycharacter, as well as the incident it was founded upon, making itwell suited to a lonely watch at sea. Then his lines to Mary, hisaddress to the Jackdaw, and a short extract from Table Talk (Iabounded in Cowper, for I happened to have a volume of his poemsin my chest); ``Ille et nefasto'' from Horace, and Goethe's ErlKonig. After I had got through these, I allowed myself a moregeneral range among everything that I could remember, both inprose and verse. In this way, with an occasional break byrelieving the wheel, heaving the log, and going to thescuttle-butt for a drink of water, the longest watch was passedaway; and I was so regular in my silent recitations that, if therewas no interruption by ship's duty, I could tell very nearly thenumber of bells by my progress.

Our watches below were no more varied than the watch on deck. Allwashing, sewing, and reading was given up, and we did nothing buteat, sleep, and stand our watch, leading what might be called aCape Horn life. The forecastle was too uncomfortable to sit up in;and whenever we were below, we were in our berths. To prevent therain and the sea-water which broke over the bows from washingdown, we were obliged to keep the scuttle closed, so that theforecastle was nearly air-tight. In this little, wet, leaky hole,we were all quartered, in an atmosphere so bad that our lamp,which swung in the middle from the beams, sometimes actuallyburned blue, with a large circle of foul air about it. Still, Iwas never in better health than after three weeks of this life. Igained a great deal of flesh, and we all ate like horses. At everywatch when we came below, before turning in, the bread barge andbeef kid were overhauled. Each man drank his quart of hot teanight and morning, and glad enough we were to get it; for nonectar and ambrosia were sweeter to the lazy immortals than was apot of hot tea, a hard biscuit, and a slice of cold salt beef tous after a watch on deck. To be sure, we were mere animals, and,had this life lasted a year instead of a month, we should havebeen little better than the ropes in the ship. Not a razor, nor abrush, nor a drop of water, except the rain and the spray, hadcome near us all the time; for we were on an allowance of freshwater; and who would strip and wash himself in salt water on deck,in the snow and ice, with the thermometer at zero?

After about eight days of constant easterly gales, the wind hauledoccasionally a little to the southward, and blew hard, which, aswe were well to the southward, allowed us to brace in a little,and stand on under all the sail we could carry. These turns lastedbut a short while, and sooner or later it set in again from theold quarter; yet at each time we made something, and weregradually edging along to the eastward. One night, after one ofthese shifts of the wind, and when all hands had been up a greatpart of the time, our watch was left on deck, with the mainsailhanging in the buntlines, ready to be set if necessary. It came onto blow worse and worse, with hail and snow beating like so manyfuries upon the ship, it being as dark and thick as night couldmake it. The mainsail was blowing and slatting with a noise likethunder, when the captain came on deck and ordered it to befurled. The mate was about to call all hands, when the captainstopped him, and said that the men would be beaten out if theywere called up so often; that, as our watch must stay on deck, itmight as well be doing that as anything else. Accordingly, we wentupon the yard; and never shall I forget that piece of work. Ourwatch had been so reduced by sickness, and by some having beenleft in California, that, with one man at the wheel, we had onlythe third mate and three beside myself to go aloft; so that atmost we could only attempt to furl one yard-arm at a time. Wemanned the weather yard-arm, and set to work to make a furl of it.Our lower masts being short, and our yards very square, the sailhad a head of nearly fifty feet, and a short leech, made stillshorter by the deep reef which was in it, which brought the clewaway out on the quarters of the yard, and made a bunt nearly assquare as the mizzen royal yard. Beside this difficulty, the yardover which we lay was cased with ice, the gaskets and rope of thefoot and leech of the sail as stiff and hard as a piece of leatherhose, and the sail itself about as pliable as though it had beenmade of sheets of sheathing copper. It blew a perfect hurricane,with alternate blasts of snow, hail, and rain. We had to fist thesail with bare hands. No one could trust himself to mittens, forif he slipped he was a gone man. All the boats were hoisted in ondeck, and there was nothing to be lowered for him. We had need ofevery finger God had given us. Several times we got the sail uponthe yard, but it blew away again before we could secure it. Itrequired men to lie over the yard to pass each turn of thegaskets, and when they were passed it was almost impossible toknot them so that they would hold. Frequently we were obliged toleave off altogether and take to beating our hands upon the sailto keep them from freezing. After some time-- which seemed forever--we got the weather side stowed after a fashion, and went over toleeward for another trial. This was still worse, for the body ofthe sail had been blown over to leeward, and, as the yard wasa-cock-bill by the lying over of the vessel, we had to light itall up to windward. When the yard-arms were furled, the bunt wasall adrift again, which made more work for us. We got all secureat last, but we had been nearly an hour and a half upon the yard,and it seemed an age. It had just struck five bells when we wentup, and eight were struck soon after we came down. This may seemslow work; but considering the state of everything, and that wehad only five men to a sail with just half as many square yards ofcanvas in it as the mainsail of the Independence, sixty-gun ship,which musters seven hundred men at her quarters, it is notwonderful that we were no quicker about it. We were glad enough toget on deck, and still more to go below. The oldest sailor in thewatch said, as he went down, ``I shall never forget that mainyard; it beats all my going a-fishing. Fun is fun, but furling oneyard-arm of a course at a time, off Cape Horn, is no better thanman-killing.''

During the greater part of the next two days, the wind was prettysteady from the southward. We had evidently made great progress,and had good hope of being soon up with the Cape, if we were notthere already. We could put but little confidence in ourreckoning, as there had been no opportunities for an observation,and we had drifted too much to allow of our dead reckoning beinganywhere near the mark. If it would clear off enough to give achance for an observation, or if we could make land, we shouldknow where we were; and upon these, and the chances of falling inwith a sail from the eastward, we depended almost entirely.

Friday, July 22d. This day we had a steady gale from thesouthward, and stood on under close sail, with the yards eased alittle by the weather braces, the clouds lifting a little, andshowing signs of breaking away. In the afternoon, I was below withMr. Hatch, the third mate, and two others, filling the breadlocker in the steerage from the casks, when a bright gleam ofsunshine broke out and shone down the companionway, and throughthe skylight, lighting up everything below, and sending a warmglow through the hearts of all. It was a sight we had not seen forweeks,-- an omen, a godsend. Even the roughest and hardest faceacknowledged its influence. Just at that moment we heard a loudshout from all parts of the deck, and the mate called out down thecompanion-way to the captain, who was sitting in the cabin. Whathe said we could not distinguish, but the captain kicked over hischair, and was on deck at one jump. We could not tell what it was;and, anxious as we were to know, the discipline of the ship wouldnot allow of our leaving our places. Yet, as we were not called,we knew there was no danger. We hurried to get through with ourjob, when, seeing the steward's black face peering out of thepantry, Mr. Hatch hailed him to know what was the matter. ``Lan'